Human Habitation
by Carverr
Summary: Petey is the only rogue factor that draws the line between Gary's freedom and his imprisonment. Caught between rescuing a student who is mentally ill and his own moral hangups about the entire ordeal, Petey will have to come to terms with the bitter reality that not everyone is as honest as he is and that doing nothing is still doing something.


Calculation. Precision. Execution. Nothing else mattered to him, that much was clear beyond anything else. Coming closer to his deadline of delivering his ploy consumed him with each passing second until he was the epitome of unhinged. He was an entry-level psychologist study if there was ever a human example needed for the unit lesson of psychosis and other wonderful mental plagues.

He brought up his cheesy mantra under his exasperated breath whenever he had hit a wall well past midnight while working in our shared dorm. He would sit hunkered over the single wooden oak desk that laid rested against the faded wallpaper room, the only other piece of furniture consisting the makeup of the dorm besides our shared wardrobe and our matching twin beds that laid on the opposite side of the room from each other's own. It was a small space, having nothing more than just the bare essentials for sleep, clothing storage, and a study session, but it was all we needed. After all, less was more. I held that quote to my chest and repeated it outwardly a few times previously, only to be corrected by him for being positively false. He always saw more as more. Period. No exceptions.

The night before the incident following his departure wasn't different in the slightest from the months that were trailing behind us on the calendar. Day in and day out, having no other option than to stay put, he would write endlessly with no goal in sight only to then crumple the paper and haphazardly throw it at the trash can that sat next to the doorway. He missed and normally couldn't be bothered to pick up his own litter, despite how many times I passive-aggressively complained about it. With the amount of writing that he did in the time that I knew him, it would seem as if he wrote the word count of the Bible ten times over. It never ended, until one day it just did.

I stayed close to him often but didn't hover. I would keep my distance by ten feet, trailing back behind him to give the illusion that we coincidentally going to the same location, and then would break off from following the leader when it was my stop on the route to get off. And, as all life-altering stories go, this day was filled with normality and routine.

He was to be compared to a non-verbal guide, an agreement we never made but had maintained every school day without much of a second guess. He was a leader and I a follower. That day, in particular, was leaning towards chilly, the early beginnings of September as the new arrivals for the school year still tried to adjust to the life of attending classes on campus. It had been a month or so since school began once more, weirdly enough things falling into place as if the previous year had never happened.

The year before, after his rise and fall of power came crashing down all within a day, he had been expelled at the feet of the Principal after the ginger "hero" near beat him to death atop a balcony. It was a story I cringed hearing, remembering, and breathing. It hurt me knowing the pouring vengeance that struck his veins could never be accomplished due to his own mistakes, errors that ultimately put the stamp on the future that narrowly pointed to, "insanity."

He would never get the chance to prove himself as the ruler of the school despite the countless hours of planning he did in our dorm. Nobody in the entire town trusted him after he was exposed to be the mastermind behind several injuries and lawsuits. They never would, his name being a ghost story in itself. He rarely left the boy's dorm unless it was to sneak off somewhere in the dead of night in between long writing sessions. It was almost as if he was making a point to uphold the mysterious rumors about him. He only made the decision to leave when none of the other students in the male dorm were awake and could catch him on the prowl for whatever he was looking for outside of the building, wherever he was disappearing to.

It was early morning when we were separated without any prior notice. One moment the student was there, the next he wasn't. It was half an hour before the morning bells chimed out and called everyone on campus to file into the school. Most of the boys opted to stay in until the last absolute five minutes before class on this day, the outside weather starting to turn bitter against them. I was no different, groaning as my flat digital displayed watch screeched out a stinging alarm that beeps in a row of one second spaced out harmony. I had quickly hit the off button by slamming my device into the rickety wood frame that held up my mattress from the floor. Yawning was then followed by my lips smacking together as my blurred vision tried to focus on the student who was laid passed out across the top of the desk, a scene in the mornings that had been ingrained into the routine just as much as getting dressed and brushing my teeth had.

Stretching out as my bones cracked in response, I slid out of bed into my overly fluffy pink bunny slippers that laid rested on the ground. The slippers were a gift he gave me last Christmas, poking fun at the coral shirts I wore daily when he thought it would be the practical gag of the year to throw a single red sock mixed in with my laundry of whites. It was mildly funny after I stopped berating him when his smug smile never wavered. Back when times were simpler, a young naive version of me being lost and in the dark about the looming storm cloud that he was.

After letting out one final definitive yawn, I made my way over to where he slept soundlessly on the face of the wood desk. He was slumped over in his cushioned desk chair, his boney hands untensed with a pencil barely in his right fingers, left hand laid atop a stack of nearly ten sheets of paper that had been torn out of a notebook. He slept with his mouth half parted open, taking in deep firm breathes with his right cheek being the only cushion for his head as he slept against the wood. His tanned fingers twitched every few seconds, mumbling something in his sleep in response as he dreamed heavily. It made me smile while looking at him in his dark green t-shirt and matching pajama bottoms. To see the boy at peace while asleep, being troubled terribly while awake, the contrasting worlds never clashing, never meeting up. Right now he wasn't riddled with stress, anxiety, or delusions. He was himself on a raw, basic level.

He made it clear to me that even if he had only achieved a total of one minute of sleep that I would promise to wake him up every time that I awoke for the day. He seemed to just go along with his endless plans of writing despite me being awake, but I believe it is his ill attempt at trying to maintain a normal everyday schedule. Awake during the day, asleep during the night. Though, this was rarely the case. He was usually back asleep by lunch.

I uttered his name quietly a few times, not wanting to startle my only friend awake to have him lecture me about being graceful when dealing with someone who is in the middle of sleep. He hated being woke up with a sense of urgency, being able to count on my left hand a few instances where he awoke shaking from the sudden noise and clamor. Since being expelled and having no other option than to stay at the dorm, underage age and parents out of state, we had been in this routine over the summer and bleeding now into the school year. I wake him up in the mornings, GENTLY, and he doesn't put spiders underneath my pillows while I'm gone. It works out for everyone.

When he didn't wake at me calling his name, I hesitantly extended my right hand to his left shoulder that was within reach. If there was one thing I knew about him, he absolutely abhorred being touched. There was no greater crime to him than being at all contacted, including accidental brushes when passing by. He would be happy maintaining a one hundred yard bubble with everyone if he had his way. Breaking the number one taboo rule, I made up my mind and slowly placed my open hand across his cotton fabric covered shoulder, shaking him in the slightest while repeating his name with a tone higher of firmness.

Snorting awake from his heavy breathing, bursting back into reality within a second, his soft brown eyes fluttering open with a few strong blinks. His hazy gaze moved from the wall in front of him to me, proceeding to close his eyes and let out a loud yawn when he recognized that it was just me at the other end of the hand. I removed myself from him before he had a word to say about it, contact being delivered in limited doses.

His eyes remaining closed, his position from the desk not moving while he tried to collect his bearings, another typical morning routine. He grumbled lowly after a few seconds of silence, "Is it before noon? Or is this my second snooze?"

I shook my head, though he couldn't see me, and spoke up as my light blue matching pajama set wrinkled from my movements. "No, first call," I relayed, "just getting up for the day. You want me to wake you back up at lunch or let you sleep in?"

Giving a shrug as I turned from my position next to him towards the dresser on the far end of the wardrobe, I informed with a tone of sarcasm thick in my words, "Edna is making mystery meatloaf again today because I know how much you love that. Wouldn't want to miss out on another round of, 'Can-I-Eat-This-Safely-Without-Going-To-The-Hospital,' would you?"

He gave a snort in response while I opened my top drawer of the shared wardrobe, drumming my fingers against the top as I avoided eye contact with myself in the attached mirror. Eyes peering down at possible outfit options, I added on, "I'll try to nab you some coffee or something. See what I can do."

My eyes moved up from the clothes in the dresser to the boy in the reflection, he stirring as he tried to will himself to sit up and face the day, to which ended up being unsuccessful as he fell back into the same awful posture he was in. Our morning interactions were strangely intimate, feeling of domestication stinging at my hopeful heart each day that passed. I believed I could save him, that we would be okay. Apart of me still believes that. I believe he is not condemned, nor damned, able with that one right person to be rescued from himself. It's a thought that lingers with me and perhaps always will. The "what ifs" of life, fantasy and reality being mixed when you're unsure which is which anymore. Truth and dishonesty, justice and corruption, love and lust. Where do the lines cross?

He groaned out and summoned me back to reality, a mix of lack of sleep and general depression creating the tone of pity that I leant him when seeing the once successful student now being a shell of his former self. He sighed out softly, followed back a monotone reference. "Urgh… Wake me up when September ends, would you, Pete?"/p

I allowed myself to smile at him through the mirror's flipped world, though he was already starting to fall fast asleep and had his eyes closed. If that's what would make him happy, I would abide by it. The same went for any request, though he rarely asked anything of me after the downfall. "Yeah. I will, Ga-"

It was then the once closed door to our dorm swung open suddenly, abruptly, and loudly. I jumped as my widened eyes caught a glimpse in the reflection in front of me of the intruders that were pouring it at a fast pace from the hallway towards the jolted awake teenager. I swung my body around to get a look at the white-uniformed intruders with my own direct line of sight but was focused on a taller figure coming towards me and blocking my view. In front of me was none other than my former close friend, Jimmy, a stone face of no expression peering down at me wordlessly with his arms opened wide. His arms were stretched out wide, truly pinning be against the wardrobe without having to touch me, crowning my space. Behind Jimmy was a rush of loud voices, men yelling different commands that were similar in nature at the boy who had just awoken, who fought back in protest to the raid that was being conducted by shouting out threats wildly.

Harshly I pushed down against Jimmy's right arm to see the aggression that was playing out behind him, getting a glimpse underneath his arm of the action as I yelled at him to step aside. Directly behind Jimmy was the teen being forcefully shoved to the ground face first, ripping him out of the desk chair he had slept in moments prior. The four strong appearing men wore surgical face masks and neatly pressed matching white uniforms, looking as if they had just stepped off of a Hollywood set for the newest bad horror movie.

It only took me a moment to realize what was happening, but when it all clicked together, I grew as frantic as my roommate. The men in uniform were strapping him in with different belt buckles and loops into a straight jacket while Jimmy played the part of peacekeeper with me, keeping me off their backs by cornering me while they went to work securing the other. The dread leaped through my chest and for a split second I saw his face in reaction, pale and eyes that of a man with nothing left to lose, I felt our mimicking emotions ring out while I called his name. I pushed Jimmy hard to get past, resorting to even trying to land a few punches to the boy I once called a close friend. He hugged me in his arms tightly to pin down my frame as I kicked and screeched, fighting to tear away and rescue my last friend, someone who needed me as much as I needed him. Groups of boys gathered in the hallway to watch the scene even as the morning bell rang for them to attend class. None of them moved as a strapped in student kicked against the carpet for a leverage of balance and yelled at no one in particular.

Through his maniac pleas for help, death threats, and everything else horrible under the sun that he could think of, he shouted out a phrase that cut through to my soul and has latched on ever since. "You did this! You all did this! You all did this to me!"

Jimmy held me close as I continued to fight away from him even after the orderlies of the local asylum were dragging him through the halls, mumbling to me to calm down to which I ignored wholeheartedly. Tears spilled down my face, his terrified voice ringing out in my mind even after the Boy's Dorm entrance was shut with a hard swing of the doors. The truth was absolutely bitter, something I refused to face beforehand. The reality that he stood alone even while in our once tight friend group, mental health turning him toxic, and the pressure of societal standards compressing him into a new being who strived to be better than his peers.

We had cracked him and everyone was to blame, I included. The men had stolen away Gary Smith before my own eyes and I was powerless to stop it; powerless to stop the caging of the beast I contributed to making.


End file.
